“Oh, please, Jack Jennings. You’re so full of crap.”
Jack had pulled off to the side of the road.
“What are you doing?”
“This.” He had parked the car and reached across, placing his hands on the sides of her face. He kissed her long and hard.
“What was that for?”
“I want to have a baby with you, Holly. I want a child.”
Holly hadn’t known what to say at first. Oddly enough, they’d never really discussed it before they had hurriedly and lustfully run to the justice of the peace after knowing each other only two months. She had always just assumed that they were cops and were both focused on their careers. But she secretly had to admit the thought of a child had crossed her mind a few times in the past few months. Every time she saw little Kristy, her heart did a flip flop and sort of ached for awhile each time after leaving.
She’d smiled at him. “You do? Really?”
“I want nothing more.”
“You want to go home and get started?”
He put the car in drive and sped the whole way home.
Holly wanted to get pregnant right away, but it took a fertility expert and years to make it happen. Three years and six weeks later came the day she’d gone to the doctor and found out the good news.
It was also the same day that Jack was killed.
“Detective,” the doctor said, peeking his head into the room. “I let you stay an extra ten minutes, but I’m going to have to ask you to go now.”
She nodded, and bent over Kristy, whispering, “You’re going to be fine. You were always such a good, sweet, strong girl. Please hold onto that.” She delicately kissed Kristy’s cheek, and with thoughts of the past still on her mind, left the hospital. Holly was acutely aware that she had quite a load on her plate to take care of.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lost the cool. Lost the cool. Damn! How had that happened? Gunter paced back and forth, the hardwood floors squeaking beneath his feet. What had just happened wasn’t supposed to happen. Lynne was supposed to come home, see all that he’d done for her, and be happy, pleased that he took such good care of her. But all she was concerned about was the kid. And there was another mistake—that kid. Gunter thought she’d be a good kid—great kid—but she hadn’t been. She’d been a real pain in the ass. Gunter should’ve seen it all going down hill from the beginning when the kid put up a fight, refusing to eat any of his goodies he’d just cooked for her. Things had not gone well at all.
“Fuck you!” she had said, spitting out the brownies that he had tried to feed her. He’d had a hell of a time getting her tied up, but he’d finally gotten her bound up, hands and feet, the little hellion.
He’d slapped her hard across the face. “Now that is no way to talk to your father. I am your daddy, and you will treat me with respect!”
“You’re not my father, you demented freak! You’re some whacked out screwball and my father is going to kill you. In fact, he ought to be home any minute!”
“No, he won’t.” Gunter had shaken his head and taken out his duct tape from his tote bag. “Now, for the last time, I’m your daddy!” He tore off a piece of tape and secured it across her back-talking mouth. She had squirmed and thrashed and turned her head from side to side. “Listen, you ungrateful little shit! Knock it off, or I’ll make you pay real hard for being such a bad girl.”
Well, that was the last time he’d choose a mother with a kid over seven. The older kids apparently didn’t get it. From the time that little bitch started fighting him he should’ve left, because he had known then and there that this was not going to be the perfect family. And he’d have to get rid of them. But one could still hope that the mother would come in and explain the realities of life to the kid, and then they could’ve all settled down and been extremely happy together—once that kid learned some discipline. But no! Impossible! Mommy came home, threw a fit, and Gunter really lost his cool.
And now he was pants-shitting scared because he’d been so careless.
What if the cops caught on? His own daddy had told him that night, twenty years ago, that you had to get your story straight, memorize it, just in case the cops came sniffing around. Everyone knew the rules in his family; that is, everyone except for their mother. If she’d only played right, his daddy wouldn’t have had to . . . But, no his mother was a very bad lady. Very bad. But Gunter had loved her, really loved her, just like Daddy had. Thinking about her made him think about the other women in his life. There were two others—his sisters. He knew where one of them was, most of the time. The other one, the ingrate . . . If he ever got his hands on that one, he’d control her, too.
His daddy knew how to control things, and no one had been any the wiser back on that night in 1985—small town, small town mentality . . . And then they’d had to move. There were a couple of suspicious cops, but Daddy was smarter, way smarter, and after some time had passed, the cops went away. But then, so did Daddy, and Gunter and his sisters were sent away to separate foster homes.
Gunter wondered where his daddy was now. Probably holed up in some old folks home, or maybe he was dead. Well, it didn’t matter, because where his dad had failed him, Gunter knew he wasn’t going to fail his family. If he could only find the right one.
He couldn’t take hanging out here any longer. It was driving him crazy, wondering if the cops were on to him. If they’d found the bodies . . . And where the fuck was what’s her name, anyway? Every daddy had a girlfriend on the side, but his hadn’t been around in days and he was starting to get really pissed at the broad. He needed some tension release. He called her number and let it ring several times. No answer, no machine, nothing. He threw the phone against the wall. “Fuck!”
He looked at the time, mid afternoon. He’d head out and see if he could find the stupid bitch, then he’d have to come home and get ready for work. He didn’t have time right now to find another family. He was hoping she would do that for him, if he could only find her. She truly understood his needs and supported him. But she would not make a good wife and mother. No way, no how. A woman like that was way too dirty to be a good wife and mother. The nice thing about her was that she really understood her place in life.
Everybody had a place in life. Most people didn’t get that, but she did, and he did. His place in life was to be a daddy.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Monday morning, Holly picked up the phone in anticipation of who might be calling, hoping to receive some good news for a change. “Jennings here.”
The voice on the other end of the phone was just who she had hoped it would be. “I’ve got that info you asked for, Detective.” It was Howard Wheat from the DNA lab.
“Go ahead, Howard. What do you have?”
“The blood that was found on the dog matches your suspect.”
“Yes!” Holly balled up her fist in victory. All day yesterday after coming home from the crime scene, she’d waited hopefully for this news. No one on the team had been able to locate William James. The search warrant was signed and ready to go. Holly wanted to get the DNA evidence just to be certain this was her man. Hopefully by going into his home and businesses they’d be able to gather enough info about where he’d gone and find him.
She’d already read through recent lists from his dating services to see if Lynne was on any of them. She hadn’t found her on one yet and wasn’t surprised. Lynne hadn’t needed much help in relationships with men, and after her divorce, if Holly remembered right, she’d done a pretty good job of swearing off of them, except for the occasional date. But that had been years ago, and since she’d lost touch with her, Holly had no idea what her recent dating activities might have been. What she did know is that the killer had some type of connection to all of his victims, and now she was getting the evidence she needed to start tying William James into it.
Holly hoped against all odds that James and his girlfriend weren’t already halfway to Cabo by now. But then, they’d be hard pressed to ge
t that far. The federales had already been notified to keep a lookout for them. Holly’s team had given them a description of James’s car and had faxed an artist’s sketches of the two suspects to them. But whether they would be willing to help was an unknown. Holly prayed that wherever James was, he was hiding in a cave close by where they might find him soon and get the ball rolling to have him locked away forever, along with his bimbo girlfriend. She had to be involved in some way or another. Holly was pretty sure of that.
“Check this. James’s semen was also found on your vic’s bra, and his DNA was under her fingernails. However, there was also other DNA under the fingernails on her right hand that doesn’t match him. If James did her, then you might want to consider an accomplice.”
“I’m already considering it.” The noose was tightening around Darla Monroe as well. But could there be a third perp? Was there some kind of sick sex cult involved in all of this? “Can you fax me those results? Looks like there’s a couple of people we need to locate and have another talk with.”
“I’d say. I’ll get those to you right now.”
She headed to Chad’s cube and updated him on the latest. Although she was still distraught over Lynne and Kristy, the idea that they might have figured this thing out, and that they had pretty solid evidence against the suspect, put a bounce in her step.
Chad raised his eyebrows. “Really? Matching DNA?”
“Yes.”
“Can I come along for good measure?” Maureen asked. “You might need some backup if he’s holed up in his offices.”
“Sure, let’s go.”
They headed out, Robb Carpenter watching as they left. Holly knew he was feeling out of the loop, but she didn’t give a rat’s ass.
Moments later they pulled up in front of The Elegance Dating Service and, not to their surprise, found the doors locked and the closed sign out front, exactly as it had been Wednesday and through the Thanksgiving weekend. “I knew we should’ve been keeping tabs on him,” Holly said. “Probably skipped town.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Chad said. “He’s got way too much cash tied up in these services. He didn’t plan on the police finding the dog. Not a very smart criminal since there’s a DNA deposit back in L.A. taken at the time of his sexual assault charge there.”
“I agree that he hoped we wouldn’t find the dog. Maybe he thought when he kicked it that it was history. But there’s only one way the man’s semen got on Shannon’s bra. He had to know that would come up,” Holly said.
“There’s no law against having sex or having sex with multiple partners. But finding his blood on the dog is different, that’s a bit more substantial.”
“May I say something?” Maureen had been sitting in the back seat, scanning a fax the lab had sent over.
“Sure,” Holly replied.
“Who else do you think could have been involved? Do you think there were three perps in the house that night?” Maureen asked.
“There could have been. Now we have to see which one gives up the others first, after we find them and bring them in for questioning,” Holly said. “I’m thinking they had some sort of Manson thing happening, maybe. With weird kinky shit going on. Sort of cultish.”
“Here’s another thought. What if our UNSUB came in after the sex romp and did his deed then? We know that our second set of victims, Shannon and the kid, weren’t killed at home.”
“Yes, but we also know there wasn’t any sign of forced entry. I’m telling you, I think we got ‘em. This guy fits the profile, at least somewhat. He’s definitely a sexual predator. Maybe this interests in kids is just now surfacing, and when he tries to mess with the children, the mom goes ballistic,” Holly said. “Or maybe . . .” She bit her tongue, not wanting to think that Lynne was an entirely different person than the one she’d known, because for her to think what she was about to say would mean that Lynne had been someone she would’ve never wanted to know. “Maybe they include the kids, make them watch. Maybe they’re preparing them for the games as well, and none of them have been able to escalate into it quite that far yet.”
The car grew silent, each of them considering the monstrous idea. Moments later, they pulled up in front of James’s house, all with the same thought that he lived within miles of the murders.
“Looks like the dating biz is a profitable one,” Chad remarked, noting the Victorian-style home in the swanky Mission Hills neighborhood.
“Okay, I’ll cover the front door. Cross your fingers that they’re really here,” Holly said. “Chad, you go around back, and Maureen, you cover that side lawn area. Sometimes these old homes have outside doors in weird places.”
Each headed for their stations. Holly walked up the front stoop and rapped on the door. There was no answer. She rang the bell. Still no answer. She walked over to the garage and, finding it unlocked, pulled up the door. A new silver Mercedes sat still and cold. She found Chad and motioned for him to go through the back. She and Maureen crept back around to the front.
She knocked again. “San Diego PD. We have a search warrant.” No answer. Signaling Maureen, she said, “Okay, on my count. Ready?”
Maureen nodded.
“One, two, three.” Holly and Maureen kicked the heavy door in together. “Police!” Holly shouted. “San Diego PD.”
The house was silent, except for the hum of the furnace heating the old hardwood floors. “Looks like he and Shannon shopped at the same design center,” Maureen commented.
“Yeah, or else she did his decorating for him.”
It was almost spooky to be inside a house where a purportedly single man, assumed not to be gay, had such good taste in decorating that it would put most women’s homes to shame. Even more bizarre was the stark contrast between the house and the offices James owned and worked in. They were so Las Vegas tacky. There had to be a woman, or maybe more than one, who’d whipped this house into shape.
Chad came down the hallway. They walked through the house in a coordinated search. James was nowhere to be found. Coming to the third and last door down the hall, Chad found it closed and locked. Stepping back, he raised his foot and kicked it in, revealing an office filled with books, the desk facing a windowsill that looked out over the San Diego harbor and Lindbergh Field. Sitting at the desk was William James, with a bullet hole in his head. The computer’s screen before him was filled with pornographic pictures of very young women. His blood was splattered across the screen and the desk.
“I guess we weren’t the only ones looking for Mr. James,” Chad said.
“Guess not,” Maureen replied.
“Shit,” Holly said, flipping open her cell phone to call the station.
They had another murder scene to investigate.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Holly had been so sure that James was their killer, that the taxpayers would be saved a pretty penny. She’d have placed bets on it. Now there was still a killer out there, maybe two, and she’d also put money on it that the other killer had been involved in the McKay and Collins’ murders. So her city was still not entirely safe. It was possible, of course, that James was the killer, and his partner had taken him out. James’s residence had been dusted and searched. His body was now at the ME’s office, and an APB had gone out for Darla. Chances were that Darla was in a far remote place by this time.
Carpenter rang Holly on her cell phone. “She’s got five other aliases and a bank account under the name of Jennifer Drake that has been wiped clean of a hundred grand. We’re running background to see what we can come up with on all the aliases. Maybe we’ll get a hit on one, and we’ll be able to see exactly who is behind door number three.”
“Okay, Robb. Keep me posted.” Her jaw clenched as she flipped the phone shut. It was pretty obvious who had killed William James. The reasons why were not totally clear since there could be a litany of them. It was such a muddle that Holly didn’t want to think about it. In fact, she really didn’t want to find James’s killer, knowing that it was probably D
arla, and if so, the woman might have had damn good reason. She had a nagging feeling, however, that Darla was as involved in the horrible murders as James. She wasn’t certain how, but if that were true, there was a chance that Darla would kill again. Was it possible that Darla was the killer herself? Holly didn’t know, but she wasn’t ready to rule out anything.
She headed back from the crime scene and over to the tech lab where one of the computer techs was dissecting James’s computer, bit by bit.
Martin Landon stood up behind his desk as she walked into his office, ran a hand through his stringy, straw colored hair, and peered at her through a pair of Coke-bottle glasses. Martin fit the computer nerd image to a tee, even down to the high-water corduroys and striped button-down. But you could count on Martin to be the one who never forgot anyone’s birthday in the office. Oddball, maybe, but a nice guy. “This pervert was into some really sick stuff, Holly.”
“I figured.”
“He’s got all sorts of downloads from kiddie porn sites and knows all the chat rooms. If you can think it, he’s got it, and I’m sure you can’t even remotely think of half the stuff. Hell, I can’t, and I’m a guy. I can appreciate good porn, but this goes way beyond the bounds. This goes beyond even bad taste.”
“Did you contact Sex Crimes and the internet guys? We might be able to see a nice little spiral from this and catch a few more of the bad guys,” Holly remarked, crossing her fingers.
“I contacted them, and they are all very interested in seeing where this case goes. We’ve already got some of our boys hooked up in chat rooms with these sick jerks. In fact, word from the chat room is one of these losers thinks he’s got a thirteen-year-old girl who’s gonna meet him at the mall tomorrow night. If our guys can string him along, maybe we can pop him. Who knows? Maybe he’ll know something about this James character.”
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